Consequence
by bergundy
Summary: Tired of living in the aftermath of someone else's choices, Sakura decides to make a few of her own. The effects of actions go on long after the choice, especially for survivors of the Uchiha massacre. Sakura, Sasuke, Itachi centric. DISCONTINUED
1. Sans Mémoire

**Notes: **The only clearly mentioned pairing in what I have written so far is Sakura x Sasuke. That is not to say that this is the final pairing, or that there will be more pairings, or that there will be less. Please bear with the slow beginning; I promise that by the end of the first chapter the plot will deviate from the one or two expected clichés that occur in "Sakura meets Itachi" stories.

Follows canon, except when it doesn't. (Where it disagrees, it's pretty obvious.) Written before Naruto Shippuuden, so I will be taking what I want from canon after the timeskip.

**Disclaimer: ** No one owns anything here. (And a side nod to _Gladiator_; I stole the motto.)

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_Truth, justice, honor...none of that's worth shit. What matters is people, and people aren't honest or just or honorable. They're petty and they're angry and they're afraid, and all anyone really wants, deep down, is to be wanted. And what's truth to that? _-M. Clark

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The tattoo which a jounin acquires on becoming ANBU is not just meaningless vanity. The intertwined designs of dark red represent the two-part creed of Konoha's elite force: _Strength_ and _Honor_.

"Hurry up, woman," the man snapped – not the man that Sakura was treating, but her patient's companion. Tearing her eyes away from the ANBU tattoo on the man's shoulder, the kunoichi shook her head. The blue glow faded from her hands.

"It's no good. I can't heal him out here."

"And why the hell not?"

She controlled herself, trying to remember that the man behind her, regardless of how deeply unconscious his companion, was dangerous in his own right. "First of all, it's a third-degree ninjutsu combination wound. I have no indication of how stable his mind is – whether he's able to endure extended surgery anyway, or –"

"He is." The man's voice was rough with irritation and perhaps (although he might never admit to it) a tinge of anxiety. At her raised eyebrow, he said, "Just go by what I say."

"Then I need to operate on him on bare ground, where I can write out the seals. This –" Sakura gestured at the grassy terrain fringed with trees in the distance, " – won't do."

"That's it?"

"…Yes, that's it."

The man bent down and scooped up his unresponsive comrade, slinging him over a shoulder, his other hand never releasing his weapon. So it was true that no matter how stoic or lonesome you started out as a fighter, most people ended up guarding their comrades fiercely. Sakura led the way this time, striding past the rustling grass, aware of every move her companion made. They halted at a bare field, once used by a farmer that had abandoned the infertile soil. Sakura ran out of excuses then, and so began her work.

It was a deep blue sky pinned up by a scattered handful of white stars that she looked up to see after mending the last scorched tissue. The man had taken the better part of the day just to bring her to the patient, and she'd only really started healing the unconscious one in the early evening. Sakura was sure she had broken her own personal record at the rate she'd worked. The thought would have made anyone feel a little self-satisfied.

Apparently, it had no such effect on the man. "Why isn't he waking?"

For someone who was so strong his chakra signature registered from 200 meters, he sure was ignorant. "Healing through this kind of set-up uses some chakra from both the performer of the technique and the recipient. He needs time to recover."

"Then why didn't you use another method?"

"This one's faster."

He had nothing to say for a moment. Then, "How long?"

"Three weeks on average; for him, and with the right medication, maybe two." It was almost – hell, it _was _a ridiculous estimate. There was still so much work to be done on the face. "There's the usual type of medicinal treatment you can give him to shorten the time between now and his waking hours, and –"

"Give me your hand."

She stiffened. "Excuse me?"

The man repeated his command, staring down at her with his strange yellow eyes. Sakura held his glare without flinching. At last, he said, "You may be stronger than I give you credit for, woman, but don't think the result will be any different. Do it now, and it'll be a lot less painful for you."

She held out her arm, the right one. Immediately after, she regretted it and started to raise her left arm instead, but the man had already grabbed the right one and …was he slipping a ring on her finger?

_You must be joking._

He released her arm and she pulled back. "You'll see to it that he's fully restored to working condition. Don't try anything or think of escaping – you're bound to us now." The man picked up his huge sword and his comrade with the ANBU tattoo, slinging him over his shoulder. Sakura hesitated to follow, even though she knew she no longer had much choice. And she'd willingly walked into this bondage.

For many nights after that she wondered why. Even if someone had asked Sakura then, she could not have explained why she had agreed to a criminal's demand and healed the man called Uchiha Itachi.

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At the beginning, though, she hadn't even known her patient was an Uchiha, let alone….Itachi. She'd woken up that morning with a burden already.

It had been the first anniversary, to the day, of the night on which Sasuke had left for the second time. She remembered that day as one where most of the events ran together without distinction, with only the last standing out with any clarity.

Two and a half years ago, the Konoha guard patrolling the village borders found Sasuke's battered body near a gate – the one on the abandoned end of Konoha which the Uchiha clan had once occupied. Sakura's former teammate had been near death from blood loss. A vicious slash ran down the length of his left side, as if his opponent had intended to fillet him; the corresponding arm had been all but wrenched off the rest of the body. It had taken Sakura all her willpower not to scream.

The Uchiha recovered over the course of several months, which was remarkable if one took in the shape he had arrived in. By the third month, Sasuke had woken once or twice, sometimes even attempting to sit up or shove food or assistance away.

Naruto had not been as quick to forgive Sasuke as Sakura, and – because the Uchiha had few real friends even back in the golden days of Team Seven – for long, quiet hours it was just the two of them, the kunoichi and the silent patient who refused to look at her. During those days, Sakura struggled to hold in all her questions, her concern. Outside the infirmary wing, the buzz about Konoha's prodigal son died down from lack of fresh fodder. One day in early summer, the Godaime sent a nurse to summon Sakura from her vigil, presumably to reprimand her for neglecting her duties.

As the nurse began to shut the door behind them, Sasuke could be heard asking, "Why is it so important that she leaves?"

The woman had snapped, "Because there are people other than you who need the Leaf's best healer. Tsunade-hime cannot see to everyone herself, and you're obviously not doing anything for each other!"

It had taken Sakura a while to find out why everyone used to shun Naruto, but only that woman's retort to show her that Sasuke was now pretty much despised in the same way. The following morning she returned to his room with flowers from the Yamanaka shop.

"I'm sorry about what the nurse said the other day." Sasuke's dark eyes were looking past her through the window, where gentle sunlight illuminated the houses and buildings of Konoha.

"Is it –" His expression flickered for a moment "- is it true that you are the Leaf's best healer, as she said?"

For some reason, the way in which he finally acknowledged her stung. "I…can't stay here all day anymore, Sasuke. I brought you flowers. You'll have something new to look at, ne."

She arranged the flowers by their slender stems in a vase as Ino had recommended and started to leave, when a hand caught her wrist. For a brief moment, it held her in place.

"Thank you, Sakura."

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The weeks leading up to Sasuke's full recovery passed like a dream. She remembered taking even more time off to argue against the permanent closing of his tenketsu, saying – as coldly and impersonally as possible – that to do so would destroy the only way the Uchiha could give anything back to Konoha in public service. Backed by everyone from her graduating class (no matter how reluctant they had been initially), she convinced the village council to allow Sasuke a probation period.

For that one year, Sakura devoted her time to relearning who Uchiha Sasuke was.

The first day he could leave the hospital, Sakura walked him home, leaving only after lunch. She learned that Sasuke liked to eat tomatoes, and could make the most perfect riceballs she had ever seen. The day after that, she visited Sasuke with notices from the Godaime and an update on the village news, also staying for lunch. She also learned that riceballs were the only thing Sasuke could make.

The third day, Sakura brought dango and learned that Sasuke hated sweet things. On the fourth, she gave up and invited him to lunch at Ichiraku's.

Not many people walked up to them to talk when Sasuke was there. One or two greeted Sakura, remembering her from some past community service or for tending their injuries. On one occasion a cocky civilian sauntered up to the two as they were eating at the stand and said that if the "jou-chan" here ever stopped wasting her time in that dreg of humanity, they could –

He never finished that sentence, and the two of them resumed eating. Not that Sakura could help smirking a little at Sasuke's fleeting expression of alarm.

They spent several days' lunches eating in companionable silence at the booth. But the second time that Sakura saw a familiar, blond-headed, whiskered face head their way and abruptly change direction, she felt that it was time for a talk. She knew that Sasuke must have noticed Naruto, having learnt in her career to interpret every muscle's twitch or fluctuation of chakra. She'd heard from her teammate – in the Uchiha's absence – that Sasuke had confessed to have considered Naruto as the best friend he had ever known the first time he'd left.

Even as he'd been trying to kill him.

Before the entrance to Sasuke's house, Sakura spoke. "Sasuke."

He half-turned, about to slide the door open. "What is it?"

Breathe in, exhale. "I think you should talk to Naruto." She watched Sasuke's shoulders rise and fall gently as he took a calming breath, just as she had moments ago. When he said nothing, she said, in a more definite voice, "As in, apologize."

Sasuke glanced away. Watching him, Sakura thought that shinobi shouldn't have lashes like the ones he had; lashes that shadowed already haunted eyes. Attractiveness aside, the man before her exuded a powerful aura of sadness.

"– I'm sorry."

Sakura promptly blushed, trying and failing to stop it from showing. "No, you don't have to say it to _me_, I…" It was her turn to avert her eyes. "I don't need it." Neither of them said anything for a few minutes, so she dared to glance up in the silence.

Tormented dark eyes met hers. She struggled, and finally broke free of his gaze to stare, unfocused, at the street of empty homes and ghost shops. _Even when you mattered to me..._"I was never anyone who mattered to you."

And suddenly, she was enveloped in a hug of startling gentleness. Everything she had been planning to say left her. A quiet voice spoke into her hair.

"This was four years overdue."

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As Sakura fell in love all over again, Sasuke managed to return to civil terms with most of his graduating class and earn the right to regain the usage of his chakra. Naruto no longer actively avoided him, but when other women began to notice the Uchiha again, he only had eyes for a pink-haired kunoichi. Still, she should have known enough about Sasuke to expect what happened less than six months after his probation ended.

He was only this sweet before he hurt those who loved him.

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No use thinking about it now.

"Woman, go buy those herbs you said you needed."

Reflex alone helped her catch the jingling wallet. The air was crisp and chilly, and she wondered whether the man even felt the cold. "We should spend the night at an inn. Your comrade will catch a cold, and it's more convenient if we're in town." Sakura gave the criminal time to think it over, not moving from her perch on the rock.

"Fine. Let's go."

The inn the man chose was average, just within the bounds of decency. The receptionist blinked when they walked up to her desk and asked for their names.

"Sakura of Konohagakure." The woman made a note in her book.

"And your companion?"

"Kisame," was the brusque answer. He dealt with the rest of the arrangements, and the woman soon placed a key and two cards on the desk. "Room twenty-four." Leading the way like he'd been there before, Kisame located the room, unlocked the door, and gave Sakura just enough time to clear the doorway before closing it. He dumped the unconscious man onto one of the futons without ceremony.

"That was smart, concealing the body," said Sakura, having observed how doing so had prevented some unnecessary questions. She dawdled by a decorated screen standing to the side.

The man glared. "I don't need your comments. Now fetch the herbs."

"He doesn't need them at once. Right now, rest should take priority. May I have your permission to wash up?" The card passes to the hot springs downstairs had not escaped her.

Kisame grunted, then tossed one of the cards at her. On the way out, Sakura heard him mutter.

"…The bother I go through for you."

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"Sasuke, please wake up soon."

"I don't know if you remember, but…."

"Promise me that you'll never leave again…I won't even ask you about what you did, if you don't want to talk about it. Just wake up."

Her voice swam in his head, echoing strangely in Sasuke's ears as it said words he wasn't sure she ever had. "Because what you did in the past doesn't matter…you can change. I forgive you. Please forgive yourself."

"I love you."

Sasuke sat up in the lumpy bed, eyelids flicking upwards to reveal Sharingan red. But for all that those eyes could see through every illusion and he stared straight at the closed door of his rented room, he didn't see anything except a woman with mournful green eyes.

He wondered if she would ever know how many nights he'd woken to the touch of her hand on his face, only to find that she wasn't there.

Now he forced himself to get up. His mind argued, _You fool, there's nothing left for you to wake for. You've had your revenge._

That didn't count, Sasuke wanted to say. It was meaningless. He had replayed it in his head more times than he could count, but the hollowness he'd thought it would fill refused to disappear.

The other man with the sword, the one with whom Itachi traveled, had not been there. Sasuke had taken his chance when he could. Maybe the surprise of seeing his brother alive had made Itachi pause long enough for Sasuke to plunge his hand, burning with chakra that pierced the air with the sound of a thousand birds, into his brother's torso.

He remembered: Itachi's whole upper body and most of that side of his face eaten to the bone by the blow. Itachi, recognizable only to those who knew exactly how he had once looked, against the shattered trunk of a tree. Itachi, with his eyes closed, seeming indifferent.

It may have appeared otherwise, but there was no way in heaven or hell that Itachi had died with a satisfied smile.

The point was, Itachi could not be anything other than dead, because even if his shark-impressionistic friend found him, there was no medic-nin with skill enough to heal him in time, with the possible exception of Sakura…and she was a kunoichi of Konoha, honorable and loyal to the end. She could have joined ANBU, he knew, or made something more of herself. Instead, she'd become a healer, just so that she could be there for him when he returned.

Correction: _had_ returned. Then left again.

Now there was no reason why he was still so far from home. He owed it to her to be executed formally, because surely that was how a betrayer twice-over was welcomed.

Going home to die was the last duty he needed to fulfill. The thought gave him a bizarre feeling of peace, even closure. The only thing left in this life to fear would be that a certain pair of green eyes would no longer look at him with compassion, only cold detachment.

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Her patient's condition was improving at last, after all the reconstruction she'd been doing for the past two weeks. Kisame had moved them from one inn to another in three day intervals to prevent tracking. Sakura found it strange; surely to just head for an Akatsuki stronghold would be the safest way. Who would care if she discovered its location? It was a given that she would be disposed of after her job was done.

Sakura began to see more of her patient's face with each session. Sculpted cheekbones emerged from a face made angular from lack of solid food – he'd been living off chakra that Sakura helped channel from Kisame – and dark, aristocratic brows arched over his eyes.

He was a lucky one to have taken a hit that fractured his face and shattered half of his torso, and still retain perfectly intact eyes, not to mention survive at all. The more Sakura worked on his face, the heavier the sinking feeling in her stomach became. At first, she convinced herself that she was doing it subconsciously, giving the Akatsuki a face resembling the one she thought of almost daily. Soon, however, she had to admit to herself that the facial features, matching so well with those in her mind's eye, must be more than coincidence.

Aside from a few minor discrepancies, the man was the spitting image of Sasuke or, at the very least, an Uchiha.

So it was, that particular morning on which she could no longer lie to herself, not entirely a surprise when Sakura returned her attention to her patient and found that she was being watched by a man she had faced across a battlefield three years ago.

"Where am I?"

Itachi's voice was just as she remembered: velvet, low, and deceptively soft.

"Be quiet and sit back down so that I can finish this." She couldn't believe she'd agreed to this task. _What am I going to do with you, Sakura? Stupidest of all the unremarkable, unmemorable Harunos._

But the Uchiha out-waited her with his three-comma crimson eyes, until she snapped for fear (and guilt for that fear) of the commas becoming pinwheels, "I'm sure you can ask your fish friend later."

Thankfully, Itachi did not say another word as she frustrated herself for another two hours. She had tried to plant foreign objects in his body before – something like tags or time bombs – but it would bother her conscience, as a healer, until she took it out. And that had been when the Uchiha was unconscious. These wasted opportunities kept occurring to her as she worked.

Her patient had the unfortunate manner of asking her questions like an ANBU captain expecting a quick, concise report from his subordinate. "Sakura, who brought you here?"

_For Kami-sama's sake. _She would have rolled her eyes a year ago, but the intervening twelve months had driven out any inclination to disturb her facial (or ocular) muscles into forgotten expressions, and most of such childishness had left her since her initiation into ANBU. Even now, she felt the instinctive urge to respond, snap to attention, and rattle off a thirty-word report, if not for the self-taught mantra all ninja knew –

Never offer information to an enemy.

The best option was to refrain from speaking at all.

Moments later, this was forgotten. "You are in no condition to get up. Sit down!"

Itachi gave her a bemused, contemptuous look in reply. Apparently he _was _in a condition to get up, for he did so without suffering any side effects, making his way to the old-fashioned, circular window of the room.

She knew the other Akatsuki would be back soon, for every other day she channeled chakra from Kisame's inexhaustible reserves into Itachi. The other man would not know his partner was lucid now and needed food. Sure enough, Kisame turned up within the same half-hour.

He brought a parceled lunch for Sakura, which he deposited on the low table near her when he saw his comrade standing at the window.

Itachi had been eying the huge, bandaged sword leaned against the wall in a corner of the room. Now Sakura watched the dynamics between the two Akatsuki: how the Uchiha took in the black-cloaked, tall form of Kisame without betraying any hint of his thoughts.

"You eat, and then we can leave," Kisame said, assuming his role as it must have been before his partner's injury.

"And the girl."

The former Mist-nin shrugged. "Pity about that talent, but there's nothing else to be done." Sakura stiffened; was ignored by the men. She vowed to at least take down the Uchiha – having carefully left some gaps in the healing of his body, there were some advantages available to her. Then she would blast a hole out the other wall if they guarded the window…

_Tsunade-shishou taught me more than healing, after all_. And it wasn't like she hadn't fought the Akatsuki before, even if this time around, death was a much stronger certainty.

She hadn't noticed Itachi ask to be alone until Kisame closed the door and the lock clicked. So Itachi wanted to dispose of her personally – she tensed, hands close together as her mind picked a technique to execute. The man faced her, a silhouette against the light from the window. He slid one foot forward; eyes of purest green narrowed….

He didn't spring a trap or make hand seals. "Sakura," his voice again, very low – "who is that man?"

It was no use, she was already off-guard. "What?"

"You heard me."

And he still made no move to attack.

"_Kisame?_ He's your partner-in-crime, your fellow missing-nin of the Akatsuki!"

"…What crimes?"

Sakura coughed, fighting the hysterical laughter that was creeping into her voice. "How the _hell,_" she said, "do you expect I should know all of them?"

"And the Akatsuki – what organization is that?"

The soft query shocked Sakura more than anything else he had said so far. No; it was too good, too convenient for her, to be true. "You can't be serious! If you don't remember _anything_ how do you know my name?" This last in a scream she threw at the man and the sunlight. Everything had suddenly become strange and unreal.

Unreadable red eyes darkened. The black dilated, seeping from the pupil to turn irises a deep brown so dark they could be black.

"I remember…some things. I have seen you and heard someone call to you before. Your mother and father are civilians. The last time I saw you, you were eight or nine years old."

"And the massacre?" She watched closely for his reaction.

The calm façade wavered for a fraction of a second.

"What massacre?"

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TBC


	2. Sans Loyauté

**Notes: **The only clearly mentioned pairing in what I have written so far is Sakura x Sasuke. That is not to say that this is the final pairing, or that there will be more pairings, or that there will be less. This was written in an attempt to deviate from the one or two expected clichés that occur in "Sakura meets Itachi" stories.

As a side note, "My Immortal" (rock version) by Evanescence made for good background music in the writing of this story.

Follows canon, except when it doesn't. (Where it disagrees, it's pretty obvious.) Written before Naruto Shippuuden, so I will be taking what I want from canon after the timeskip.

**Disclaimer: ** So not mine. (Not even this disclaimer is…geez.)

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He found the girl at one of the village bar-and-brothels as he was passing through. This one was not like most of the women in her line of business. Just watching her, he knew that she was never going to catch any man's attention when more practiced and voluptuous women beckoned from the dim corners of the house. Her eyes were not quite green enough, her hair only a very light brown that appeared reddish in the light. Their eyes met over the noise, and even from that distance – as she approached – he knew the girl both wanted and did not want what her voice pleaded for.

He led her up to a room with him and sat her down. He asked her who was her master, how much – or how little – she had. Gradually, she overcame her hesitancy. Around that time, he decided that he'd been wrong to linger. Placing a small, weighted bag on the bedside table, he got up to leave.

An unexpected hand caught hold of his wrist. He looked down to see the girl's face. She was about his age, but although life had been just as cruel to her, there was no guile, no hardness in her face. She was too easily bought, to look adoringly on someone who had only heard her out and done nothing for her.

"Please, sir…" She swallowed visibly. "You know what I must do."

"You are inexperienced," he said.

"If – if there was anyone I wanted to be my first, I – I'd want it to be someone like you." She uttered the last three words in barely a whisper. Her voice was not beautiful or melodious to begin with, and her face was, at most, pretty.

He shook her off. "There's nothing I can do for you."

Hands clutched the hem of his shirt now. "There is."

He started to pull away, but an inexpert mouth bumped into his. This time he looked at her and saw only the green eyes, glittering with imminent tears. Sasuke knew she didn't know what she really wanted, and that he would be doing ill by both of them to comply.

But he took her anyway.

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Afterwards, as she lay exhausted and limp on the bed, Sasuke rose and showered in the adjacent bathroom. When he emerged, he didn't feel any less filthy. The girl still had the soft glow of aftermath on her, stretched out in an ungraceful, still-innocent manner on the rumpled sheets and fast asleep. It hadn't been his first, but it had been hers, and suddenly, Sasuke found himself repulsed by her, and himself.

He left the village and never went there again.

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By tacit agreement, Sakura and Itachi left the vicinity as quickly as possible, pausing in their journey southwest for only half-hour spells of rest time. The breaks were few and far between, and if food could be obtained and eaten in a shorter interval, the length of the break was adjusted. On the third day, Sakura declared that they would stop for a while and wash up; Itachi voiced no protest.

It was a good location, a copse bounded by concealing trees and a stream that blossomed into a wide, lazy river further down. Itachi waited upstream, managing to catch several fish before Sakura returned clad in her old clothes, but damp and somewhat cleaner.

"I'll cook the fish and you can go for a dip," she offered, unsurprised when the Uchiha declined. He didn't look like he needed to.

"Do you recognize this river?" He slid a gutted fish on a stick.

"No, but I think we're in the right direction nonetheless. Fire Country should be in sight within three days." Sakura started to lean back against a tree, then tensed. "Itachi, you really don't remember?" _Not that he'd tell you if he was lying, idiot._

But the Uchiha just shook his head. She noticed how his hair looked silky, unlike Sasuke's, which stuck out like a crow's tailfeathers in the back, begging to be ruffled –

_No. _She continued to observe Itachi, now with a colder eye. Wouldn't he be proud to learn that his brother had become just like him.

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It was two hours before dawn. The sky was still dark. Sakura woke three minutes earlier than the intended time. Without getting up, she placed her right palm flat against the side of the tree she had been sitting against, sending a faint chakra signal up along the bark.

Itachi dropped from the overhanging branch, making less sound than a breeze slipping through grass. Sakura took her position as her shift began.

It was more than strange that the two of them could form a team so easily, setting traps and keeping watch over each other in regular three-hour blocks as any ANBU did. Sakura would never have considered it this way, but in all honesty, the Uchiha outranked her.

Several times, she wondered if it would be better for her to leave him, but there was the matter of the ring. Kisame had mentioned that she could not escape no matter what while she wore it, but here she was, probably leagues away from the man. There were two main explanations for this: Kisame had consented to her departure – unlikely – or she wasn't bound to _him_.

Sakura had noticed that both Itachi and Kisame wore rings, although she didn't think hers gave her any particular power or advantage. Even so, a link required a two-way connection, after all, with a seal at either end of it. So she would wait until Itachi was trussed up and rendered harmless in Konoha – and in the meantime, suppress the hysterical laugh that rose in response to the way she'd mentally strung the words "Itachi" and "harmless" in a sentence.

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Itachi watched for any sign of the missing-nin of the Mist and other intruders. But he also watched the sleeping ANBU woman.

It was bewildering to see someone last remembered as nine years old become an adult all of a sudden. As though – a blink – he had slept those intervening years away in another world. But according to the kunoichi, he had spent them as a criminal instead.

He'd thought of his brother because he remembered that Sakura had been about his age. Sasuke was most likely one of the police now, striving for Father's approval without understanding, still, that it was a worthless burden, a collar fettering him to the clan. Once Father noticed him, he'd be used and kept on a tight leash. Sometimes, disgusted and impatient, Itachi would consider thoughts that the other Uchiha feared to entertain.

Sakura stirred, letting out the softest of sighs. Itachi could tell that she had exhausted herself. He had assumed that any ANBU could keep up with his pace without breaking a sweat, but then again, he was still using his thirteen-year-old self to judge her. He must have been traveling faster than that. He decided that although she could set the pace in the days to come, he would take a more active role in finding the way back, even if it didn't seem entirely worth the effort.

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She left the privacy of the trees to join him by the fire, which added to the heat of late afternoon. Without saying a word, Itachi handed her the first fish that he had cooked, not letting go of the stick until she had a firm grasp. Sakura bit into it and was perversely glad that the murderer of the Uchiha clan could add culinary talent to his long list of accomplishments.

The simple act of eating the meal, however, increased her unease. For ten days, Itachi had betrayed nothing and asked very little. He kept his watches; helped her trace a path through the local woodlands; prepared the food every other night. She couldn't say what had convinced her to accept his food – _because he had offered it in an innocuous tone? _– but she knew the reason for her growing discomfort.

Itachi was troubling her conscience.

He was doing his share of the work to get them to Konoha. He didn't know that a horde of ANBU were going to put him through interrogation and other painful procedures.

"_What massacre?"_

"_There was an incident the year you disappeared from the village…with the Inuzukas. The Hokage settled it. It's over now."_

_Unwavering red eyes._

"_You don't have to lie to me."_

He'd preferred her to say nothing, if everything that came out was bound to be false. And so they barely spoke. Itachi's silence, as he reached out to move the fish before one side burned, formed a natural part of him. Sakura paused with the fish before her mouth, watching him eat.

He was going to get burned.

"You can leave, if you don't want to return to Konoha," Itachi said without preamble.

She stared at him. "Why wouldn't I want to do that?"

"You were an accomplice to a missing-nin, for assisting Kisame. Those are grounds for a trial by the council."

"And who will accuse me?" Her eyes flashed. "You?"

He just looked at her, silent, until her scorn bled away to a queasy mixture of fear and shame, both of which _he _should feel, not her.

Four chakra signals – one of which she recognized – flared into her awareness. Neji, leading three others. Sakura sensed the ANBU approach, knowing that the other party had seen them long ago. She was content to wait, but at the same time wanted to warn them of Itachi's condition. If he had truly lost his memory, she didn't want him regaining it via battle. In fact, she doubted that she wanted him to regain his memory at all.

But the man beside her had already anticipated hostility. He had moved, a single, subtle step that placed him slightly ahead of her, covering her left flank. Sakura wondered if he thought he'd be protecting her.

Four shuriken lashed out at them from behind, all aimed at Itachi. Trusting him to duck, Sakura did nothing. Sure enough, he disappeared from view. Suddenly, a giant fireball blazed to life on her right. Metal _pinged_ as kunai knocked each other aside; a cool and ruthless voice declared Neji's favored move, the Kaiten, and a sphere of spinning chakra rose up in time to deflect another blast of deadly fire. Neji wasn't taking any chances with genjutsu.

Regretting her earlier passivity, Sakura leapt forward and reached out. Her gloved hands yanked back a cat-masked ANBU by the arm. The shinobi was young and unsure of how to respond. While he hesitated, Sakura took his place and punched the ground.

Grass and dirt flew everywhere; huge trees wider than she could span with both arms toppled, uprooted as the earth crumpled. The blast forced the two main combatants and the supporting units of Neji's squad to jump away.

Sakura raised her voice – something she hadn't done in months. "Captain, Itachi, stop fighting for a moment!"

"Get out of range, Sakura," warned Neji behind his bird's mask. "Now is not the time to report!" The dust was settling.

"This is something you'll _want _to know!"

Itachi had remained silent, but he landed near Sakura. Before she could stop herself, she had met his gaze. His eyes, however, were only the standard Sharingan red. Why didn't he try to use the Mangekyou on someone as strong as Neji? _Maybe the present circumstances don't make it a viable option_, thought Sakura, or his memory loss had taken from him that rare and frightening technique.

Whatever the reason, he looked in Sakura's eyes and said, "Sakura-san, do you intend to explain the situation in a way that will satisfy us both?"

"If we go calmly to the village, you will encounter people who are capable of giving you much more satisfying answers than I could hope to give. Captain!" She snapped, annoyed as one of the ANBU tried to put in a blow. Itachi caught the fist and tossed the jounin aside in the same motion. "Please call off your squad!"

Neji dropped two meters away from them and made a quick motion with his hand, the signal to stand down. His white eyes locked on Sakura's face. "Report."

"Uchiha Itachi has been recovered from the enemy, with a few gaps in his memory. His recollection begins about a year before his forceful departure from Konoha. We await your decision, sir."

Neji's eyes had widened at her choice of phrase. She hoped he would understand that she had couched it in those terms for Itachi. Both she and the Hyuuga certainly knew the truth: that the Akatsuki was a disintegrating organization, that Itachi's atrocities were his death warrant as surely as Sasuke's chronic absence was his; that she had not even attempted to explain her involvement in Itachi's reappearance.

"We shall escort you back," Neji said. One of the ANBU summoned a small cat. "Send word to the Hokage."

Sakura glanced at Itachi's dispassionate face, and wondered how much he could guess.

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They were about half a day's distance from the village by nightfall. Neji halted the company and they fell to their respective duties as if assigned parts. Two of Neji's original squad kept watch; Itachi, who seamlessly partook in the activity, went to fetch water. Sakura had contrived another task so as to accompany the Uchiha, and was following him when Neji's voice called her back.

"Sakura, what is that on your hand?"

She glanced at the little ring. "The other one, Kisame, placed it on me. I believe it is a chakra-link, with double seals. Nothing has resulted from my separation from the Mist-nin, while I have been in the constant presence of Itachi, at short to midrange distances. I was warned against outside attempt to remove it, but I am confident that the Uchiha could remove it for me."

Neji nodded. "See that you do not forget." In a softer tone – for while they were not close, he was a friend, and they had come to bear mutual respect over the past few years – he asked, "Has he demonstrated any suspicious behavior to contradict your claim?"

Sakura shook her head. "His behavior pattern is convincing. It's not impossible that some form of retrograde amnesia resulted from the wound he had earlier. He was in extremely poor condition."

"When you found him." Neji's eyes narrowed, but he raised his hand to forestall her reply. "Do not tell me what I do not need to hear, Sakura. Some kinds of information are best limited to those who have to know. Tell your _shishou_."

"I will." Sakura left for the riverbank, ignoring the stare of the ANBU by the fire.

Itachi greeted her without inflection. His cold politeness engendered a tone of similar temperature in Sakura's voice. "Well, Uchiha-san, why do you keep your Sharingan activated? It could damage your normal eyesight, aside from lowering your chakra reserves."

"You know this." It wasn't a question. Sakura injected a little warmth, a little more concern into her manner.

"I do know that it requires considerable chakra to maintain. You won't get ambushed, Uchiha-san – it's not as though you'll be attacked any second in our company." A bald-faced lie, but as those went Sakura had told worse to herself.

He had been facing the river, having cleansed his face with water scooped from its calm, dark surface. Now he turned his head so that Sakura could see his inky black, natural eyes. They were just as unnerving as his red ones.

"Is there a reason for your change in address? You called me Itachi, but now it is Uchiha-san."

Sakura responded smoothly. "When I thought about it, addressing you as Itachi was too informal for passing acquaintances."

"Would you prefer that I called you… Haruno-san?"

She shrugged. "It doesn't matter because you have seniority. Call me however you like."

Itachi's voice, Sakura found, was infuriating chiefly because it was so enigmatic. "Sakura is a pretty name for a girl. It is better than being named for an unlucky animal."

"Oh?" Sakura said when she had recovered from momentary surprise. "But you aren't superstitious, are you?"

Itachi stood. "Children are named according to the whims of their parents."

_And sometimes_, Sakura thought darkly,_ their parents are right_.

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Sakura fed more fuel to the leaping flames before taking a seat next to the Uchiha. Neji was keeping an eye on the proceedings – which was considerable caution, since he was Hyuuga. One of his subordinates, the cat-faced one, was taking a clearly much-needed rest against the bole of a tree. Sakura didn't need Byakugan to see how low the shinobi's reserves had run; Neji had probably stopped the group for his sake. The other ANBU were out of immediate sight, but years as a medic and further training made Sakura confident that she could find the sentinels in an instant if she cared to.

No, those two weren't of great concern to her. It was the silent man beside her. The firelight gave his face an orange hue, so solemn – he couldn't be more than twenty-three, twenty-four?

"Uchiha-san." Her voice was calm and soothing, one she had perfected over time for patients. "While your body has been on the mend, I would like to run a check. You were suffering from a severe injury when I first saw you…do you recall that?"

Itachi nodded and looked about to speak. Sakura sensed his ire when she went on at once.

"Excellent! So do you know who dealt the wound?"

"I remember the wound, not the moment it was inflicted, Sakura-san. I was about to ask if _you_ could identify my attacker."

"As it happens, I'm afraid the life of my patient took precedence over analyzing the wound."

"Then whoever is responsible is free to attack again. It would have been worth my life to discover his or her identity." Itachi's tone might have been neutral, but his word choice recalled that of a superior chastising a foolish and incompetent underling. Sakura felt a sharp flare of anger; her retort – delivered with a bland smile – flew out before she could reconsider.

"But you don't know how much you are worth to Konoha, Uchiha-san. I'm sorry that you don't approve, but what's done is done, right?"

The insincerity of her cheeriness was telling, if not blatant. Itachi reached towards her with his hand without warning. Whatever he had intended – intimidation, maybe – required contact, and at this, Sakura sensed (and then saw) Neji descend from his perch on the tree to prevent it. And _that _was telling.

Itachi withdrew his hand and stood. The fire burned high between the two shinobi.

"Captain, I understand that you may have reservations against me. This level of hostility, however…is it warranted?" Behind and to Neji's right, the cat-ANBU stirred. Sakura knew it was not because of their voices; those were pitched low and soft. It was the intent that had charged the air, the swift chill and misleading stillness between the men.

"You are aware that you have been absent from the village for a number of years, Uchiha?" Once, Sakura had overheard the aging Morino Ibiki comment that Neji had been placed in the wrong force. Neji's voice was wintry and terrifying; he _would_ have been a huge success in Torture and Interrogation.

"I am, captain."

"Then you understand." Neji turned, presenting his back to Itachi in what appeared to be both a temporary cessation of hostilities and an act of bravado. In fact, it was neither; the Hyuuga just had the luxury of his inherited Bloodline Limit.

Neji, Sakura observed with an ironic smile, hated dishonesty and avoided direct lies when he could, the nature of his profession (which often required disguise and concealment) notwithstanding. Seeing that Itachi had yet to resume his seat, his entire stance relentless and wary, she leaned into his field of vision.

"I said I'd give you a checkup, Uchiha-san. Come on, the captain is just going back to the tree."

"He appears to detest me. Why is that, Sakura-san?"

"It's nothing personal; he can be kind of prickly." She gave a breezy laugh. Itachi ignored her attempt to ease the tension.

"Should I sit or continue standing?" When Sakura gave him a very blank look, his eyes narrowed. _Impatience_, she thought. Itachi was not devoid of emotion.

"Well, continue standing if you wish."

"Which one of the two would expedite your task?" A minute edge had entered his default voice. Sakura wanted to push him further to see more of Itachi's mood-indicators, but decided that Anko would do a more professional job of it.

"I see what you mean," she said, unable to keep her own irritation from coloring her voice. _At least he will underestimate me_ was no comfort to her ego. "It would not affect the inspection either way, as long as you are facing me." The explanation was plausible; his injury had been in the front, radiating into his face from the central hit near the chest.

Itachi shifted his left foot so that he stood facing her, his eyes just a few inches above her level. Then, in a deliberate, fluid motion, he lowered himself to the ground and sat. Secretly envying his striking grace, Sakura dropped to a seated position and formed the seals.

"Take off the outer shirt." She sounded weary to her own ears. "It will make things go quicker." Itachi complied, leaving on a body-hugging mesh shirt that would not be much trouble for chakra-infused hands. He was muscled, but lean enough that she could see the regular, metronomic beat of his heart.

Red was bleeding into his dark eyes. "You were not this tired before we set up camp."

"Uchiha-san, I have to ask you to release the Sharingan. I need to see how your normal eyes –"

_Kami-sama_, she had never been more frightened in her life, the moisture seared out of her throat, her heart racing to pump blood and adrenaline throughout her body. His anger was constricting, sudden like lightning, and totally justified. Itachi would have left her there to take the blow meant for him, but her chakra held him in place for a crucial second.

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Sakura let her _kage bunshin _wink out of existence and drew out a scroll of painted seals, careful to stay in the denser shadows between the trees. The three ANBU had ghosted into the scenery, just like her, while their captain pounded out the Uchiha's tenketsu with brutal, but necessary, force.

She could ask why Itachi had fallen for this set-up. The answer she came up with for herself was that while he knew she was keeping something from him, he had instinctively known she was, in her natural state, a person without guile. Moreover, in his eyes, she was not particularly intelligent. He had the genius, but still stunted mental limitations of his thirteen-year-old self.

And Sakura had betrayed his trust. It had been faster and easier than breathing.

When it was done, Neji and his squad helped her place several strong seals on the unconscious Uchiha. An hour or so later, Sakura sat back with a groan of fatigue. She raised her eyes to find that Neji had been waiting for her to do so.

"You are reckless and not entirely sane," he said in a tone completely at variance with the one he'd used to address Itachi. "One wonders why ANBU took so long to recruit you."

She laughed, albeit weakly. "After they took you in, they seriously considered going in a different direction."

The Hyuuga smiled, something akin to solidarity flickering through his white eyes. He told her that if she could satisfactorily explain her month-long MIA status, she would be promoted to squad leader next time she set foot in the ANBU compound.

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TBC


	3. Sans Gentillesse

**Notes: **In which we see twenty-year-old Sakura in her natural habitat and a few characters make cameo appearances. The point of spacer chapters like this one is to set things up and to show that Sakura's life does not _solely_ consist of obsessing over Uchiha; she does interact with other people.

This will also be the last speedy update, as it is the last fully written chapter I currently have. I have to write everything longhand; it gives me time to think, and typing it up is a reviewing/editing process in itself. A beta would be _nice_, but I don't know anyone who is willing to do that at the moment.

**Disclaimer: **If Naruto were mine, I would be relatively rich. I am poor. Therefore, Naruto is not mine.

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"Your actions are inexcusable."

Tsunade tried to read her former student's expression, but as of last year, Sakura had learned to exercise some degree of control over her face. At least the girl was honest to her.

"You agreed to heal the traitor and murderer, Itachi. Why? Spite? Curiosity? I can think of no way in which that can be construed as an action beneficial to the village."

"Tsunade-shishou," said Sakura in the invariably patient, sweet tone that she often used to placate, "the Uchiha are a dead clan. If both Sasuke and Itachi died, their Bloodline Limit would disappear. I understand that Kakashi-san" her sensei no longer "is in possession of one eye, but you know as well as I do that it is not the same. Sasuke is out of our reach, but Itachi is not. And one less Uchiha is one less risk that enemy countries will exploit the Sharingan ability."

"So you mean to tell me that this was in your head all along?"

"Oh, no, shishou. I was scared out of my wits. The Uchiha's companion, Kisame, was leagues above my combat level. I could have fought a pointless, protracted battle by constantly healing myself, but I opted to take a gamble."

"Where is Kisame now?"

"I don't know. I expect that he's rather confused. His partner has run off on him and you received intelligence that the organization they both serve is in its death throes." After a moment (though whether the pause was for dramatic effect or sincere thought, Tsunade couldn't tell), Sakura added, "Now that I reflect on it, Kisame's behavior leads me to believe that he was acting independently to save Itachi. Shishou, if I may ask, where is Itachi now?"

Tsunade resisted the urge to slump into her seat. "In high-security wards; Anko should be done with today's session by now. There is always at least one Hyuuga present to monitor his chakra levels. I really shouldn't be telling you, Sakura."

The kunoichi bowed her head. "Thank you, shishou."

"I will review the reports that you and Neji gave, and present your testimony to the village council. They will decide if your actions merit a trial."

Sakura gave the Hokage a full bow and left. They both knew very well that while a clean record did not absolve all crimes by any means, it was helpful. Sakura was known for her dedication and public service, and was well-liked by the council elders. She would be acquitted without a trial.

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Sasuke had learned in the length of one month that Earth Country's weather did not agree with him. It would be below-freezing temperature one morning, and achingly hot the next. People wore sleeveless shirts and shorts in the small townships, eating ice creams where the day before, they would be shivering under thick cloaks and hurrying indoors.

He remembered Konoha, where most days were like early autumn, and the wind would be a mild breeze stirring up the grass and making the leaves sigh.

…_She'd take his hand and he would let her guide him down the street. Sometimes_ _a few pedestrians would stare; a familiar face sent a burning glare his way, while a young, foolish girl turned her head to keep him in sight, nearly walking into a wooden post. He didn't care, he had who he needed. Despite his previous warnings to the contrary, Sakura led him to the stand where a tall, blond-haired shinobi waited._

"_So you're up, dickhead. What a surprise."_

"Naruto…" Sakura chided, but the edge was blunted.

"Haven't seen you in a while…dead last." Sasuke moved to a seat – Naruto's hand fisted the front of his shirt and yanked him forward with impossible, irresistible strength. Sasuke could only aim a kick at his former teammate's side and be relieved when Naruto released him in favor of taking the hit; Sasuke's chakra was no longer readily available to him.

"Sasuke," said Sakura in a strained, unnaturally quiet voice, "what did you come here to say?"

You _brought me here_ was his resentful thought. His anger dispersed when he saw her green eyes swimming, staring down at the counter. Naruto's face was distorted in a frozen snarl; he wouldn't have paused for anyone but the girl – now a woman – between them. When Sakura met Sasuke's eyes again, he expected a pleading look. He did not anticipate the raw anger mixed inextricably with the raw hurt. It choked the words out of him from where they had always waited.

"I'm sorry, Naruto."

Sasuke began his journey home.

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By the time she was sixteen, Sakura was known as a _tokujo_ – a special-rank ninja having jounin-level ability in a single area – for her skill in the medical field. When she was seventeen, her mother, who'd always had a strange, wasting illness, passed on to join Sakura's father.

Naruto, immersed in the hectic nature of his life, had not seen anything out-of-ordinary in Sakura's behavior; she'd been mourning Sasuke's departure for long enough. When he found out, he came to her house at once and would have spent the night on her doorstep had she not chosen to admit him.

By then, she could say with barely a quaver, "It was a week ago, Naruto-kun. Forget it."

His blue eyes widened in disbelief. "_Forget_ it? Sakura-chan –"

It had become too much when she heard his protest. "Naruto-kun, I know I cry a lot, and that it's good to let it out, but sometimes I _don't want to_, okay? Just let it go, Naruto! …Just _go_." But she was sobbing when she finished. Naruto stayed behind, held her, took her out for ramen.

He made her feel better, but when you could no longer remember how it _felt_ when life was whole and good, better was a word that meant, at times, less than nothing.

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Sakura wanted to wash away the familiar, sharp sourness of failure with something cool and sweet. Since she did not trust herself with liquor, she opted for tea and dango in this situation. Being on forced leave while the council deliberated meant that she could change into looser, more comfort-oriented civilian clothes, and this, at least, she was grateful for.

The midday sun and humid weather conspired to create a miserable climate for Konoha's villagers. She was not exactly surprised when she encountered a fellow colleague on break at the food stand. Mitarashi Anko was notorious for her unpredictable humor – after her incurable sweet tooth.

"Huh," said the dark-haired woman by way of greeting. "You've got a case of the Angry Housekeeper. A bad one, from the looks of it."

"What's the –" Sakura cut herself off as Anko gave a languorous stretch in her seat. "Never mind."

"I see no point in pretending I didn't hear anything, Sakura-chan. The Godaime won't let you into that division, so what? You've got plenty of better things to do in ANBU."

"You don't get it, Anko-san." When Sakura had been twelve, Anko had been a little scary, a psychotic authority figure who nonetheless knew her business. Now she was just another person with inner scars that nobody cared to see.

"Of course I get it; don't be insulting. You want to nail the other Uchiha brat."

The way Anko put it seemed overly simplistic, but that didn't mean it was untrue. But Anko was not someone Sakura would trust her deepest thoughts to. Sakura had once worn her heart on her sleeve, and all it continued to fetch her was _pity_ despite her rank and talent. She had learnt whatever Sasuke had wanted to teach; she didn't know what it was about Itachi's return to Konoha that converted her pain to a more workable emotion

(_Anger can be used_, was Tsunade-shishou's opinion, _so long as you don't let it use you_)

but of all things, _this_ was what the Hokage had to refuse her!

"I want her to stop muttering the old 'your skills are not used to their best advantage in the post that you're applying for.' If I'm being turned down, I want her to shove the real reason in my face."

That was what she told Anko, whose mouth twisted in a smile. "Really? Then I guess I _don't_ get it after all. I was always under the impression that it pissed you off the most to be thwarted in delivering retribution…that you wanted to wipe the bastard off the face of the earth as a hunter-nin, following the rules, because that would complete the euphemism of 'up yours.' That's what I wanted to do when Orochimaru bailed."

"And then?"

"Then?" Anko scoffed, taking the second-to-last of Sakura's dango. "Do I look like a hunter-nin to you? Hokage just make you do what they think is best. Forget trying to hold a grudge against them. There's only one person who deserves it."

Sakura took a long, slow draught from her tea. When she set down the cup, she met the other woman's expectant gaze. "I could never hold a grudge against the Godaime. She taught me almost everything I know." _And tried to teach me everything _she_ knows._

Anko propped her head on a fisted hand, her elbow on the counter. "I remember you when you were a kid, you know. You were a cute, perky thing with ten kinds of hysterics. Smart, but naïve."

"Why are you reminiscing, Anko-san?"

The dark eyes drew away briefly to rest on some scene of the past. "I was thinking of how I'd be surprised, a few years back, if I'd heard you continue that sentence after the word 'grudge.'"

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Sakura had time to kill, which was not a frequent occurrence when one was in ANBU. Several of her patients from the old days, some of them civilians, had expressed concern for the psychological and physiological stress that joining ANBU would give her. That aside, the amount of time one had to devote to it had staggered their minds. She hadn't even told anyone outside of the people who strictly needed to know of her desire to become a hunter. She felt no need to tell the self-same people that the joy of ANBU _was_ its workload. Some people gained insomnia from the time they served in the force, true; but just as often, others joined to fill up the free time given by the insomnia they already had.

Training, eating, sleeping was a way of life that she had despised in her youth. But what else was she meant to do now, when socializing equaled an exhausting maneuver around subjects not open to discussion, falling into bare silences while the other person thought of better ways to put the time to use, or pretending to care for the superficial nonsense that had once made up the fabric of a twelve-year-old girl's life?

She found Lee, who had tried a handful of careers but settled for _instructor_,

(because the man he most revered and respected had been one to him)

supervising the genin in the training grounds. "Lee-san, good afternoon."

The green-clad man beamed a smile bright and large enough to eclipse the sun. "Sakura-san, how are you? Come and have a look at my team. Aren't they adorable and dedicated?"

_Adorable _was not something Sakura would call them, out of consideration for their feelings. One of them was pounding the crap out of the other with what appeared to be a newly acquired technique. At least – despite the enthusiasm of the aggressor – none of the three were earnestly seeking each other's death.

"They're motivated," she said. "Lee-san, can we spar later?"

The genin not involved in the mini-scuffle raised his eyes and watched her with an astute air. Before her eyes, he went over to his teammates and separated them, then turned to his instructor. "Lee-sensei, will you?" After that, a grudging, "please?"

Lee smiled: "Alright, guys" – and gave the genin a hell of a show.

Sakura went home for a shower and lay on her old bed, but her eyes kept snapping open. No, it wasn't nearly enough. It never was.

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_Shishou_ had not lied. There was a Hyuuga guarding the cell. _Hanabi_, Sakura guessed. The woman seemed the right age, talented enough to pass the trials, and in possession of the unblinking white eyes, the only feature the mask revealed.

"The Uchiha is sleeping," Hanabi said. Sakura surmised that he had been found with closed eyes, relaxed heartrate, and monitored by his chakra pulse, feeble though it must be with all his tenketsu resealed every hour, whether or not Itachi showed signs of recovery. She wasn't authorized to see him herself. "Sorry," said the Hyuuga. Sakura tilted her head, a nonverbal _don't care_ message in the movement. She knew approximately when shifts changed.

The sky was dark when Anko drew near with Ibiki and two other ANBU, one cowled and the other with the white hood thrown back. Hyuuga Neji. It must be another session. Neji was one of the highest security failsafes that Konoha's ANBU had in their arsenal, and they used him.

_They sent Neji to lead the retrieval team. _Sakura, thinking along those lines, concluded, _they suspected._

Ibiki's inscrutable look sailed over her head, except for the part that said, _If you're not on duty, then you should be gone_; Anko's knowing, told-you-I-knew-it glance managed to strike just the wrong chord with Sakura's nerves. Neji accorded her a polite nod. They passed by her two meters from the entrance, and disappeared into the building. A quarter-hour later, Hanabi appeared in their stead, special ANBU gear tucked into a small, uninteresting pack. "Hello, Sakura-san."

"Care for a drink?" She let the Hyuuga incline her head in assent before walking down the shadowed path. An insect lighted on her hand. Half a second later, it fell off, fried by a chakra spark.

"I didn't know you drank." Hanabi dropped into a side booth, eyes moving to watch Sakura do the same. They'd seen each other before, but the only words they had exchanged then were greetings. "Actually, that's one of the things I heard you never did."

"It damages the liver, Hanabi-san."

The other gave a one-shouldered shrug. "It's just Hanabi. Does being a medic stop you?"

"From…what?" The yellow-orange light from the overhead lanterns were not kind to the barman's face when he turned for their order.

"Drinking. Indulgence."

Sakura rubbed an eye with her fingers. "ANBU _is _indulgence. Not drinking is a choice made completely separate from professional knowledge. Besides…I know what kind of drunk I'd make."

Hanabi murmured thanks as her order arrived. She seemed hungry but also smart enough not to down alcohol on an empty stomach. "Well, I've been stoned once or twice. It's a strange feeling, and never really the same each time. You don't know if the exterior reflects what you're thinking inside."

"I always thought - ."

Because Sakura had paused on her own, Hanabi prompted, "Yes?"

"If people who wanted to forget know that the alcoholic effect will wear off, why don't they just turn to genjutsu in the first place?"

"Maybe they're scared to be permanently damaged." The younger woman flushed. "Obviously, I'm not an expert, Sakura-san."

"It doesn't matter." Sakura studied the rice-wine in her shallow sake cup. "Humans aren't really rational creatures, anyway. We pretend, and then get frightened when a rational creature comes along. So we kill it."

"…Melancholy drunk, then?"

Sakura smiled at the uncertain attempt at humor, freeing the other to do the same. "I'm sorry. Anyway, the meal's on me. You must be tired, and I just had to drag you here for the company."

"I don't get dragged," warned Hanabi. Her tone became more serious, however. "And I know it's not just for the company."

The older kunoichi shifted in her seat to face Hanabi, a challenging light in her eyes. "Fine. Why did I bring you here?"

"Why did you want to check on him? He's the wrong Uchiha." The light glanced off silvery metal and caught Hanabi's eye. "I didn't know you wore jewelry."

Sakura spread her hand, looking at the ring with faint surprise. "Hm." She had come to a decision. "Never mind that. Don't you think it's ironic that Itachi was brought down by betrayal?"

"I didn't hear how he was subdued." Hanabi sighed and ate more of her food; swallowed. "I know my cousin was involved."

"Your cousin's a very important asset to the ANBU."

Hanabi appeared to sense what Sakura was leading up to. "And they chose _him_ to lead the team that brought you back." She shook her head, the long black hair slower to follow her movements. "I don't know how ANBU knows things, Sakura-san."

Sakura nodded. "Please, it's just Sakura."

"Sure." Hanabi drained the bowl of soup and poured sake into her empty cup. "Ulterior motives aside, it's nice of you to pay for my dinner." A momentary half-grin touched her pale face. "I drink a lot when I get started. I don't think that either my sister or my cousin take anything stronger than tea. I used to guess that Neji-nii did it out of sight, but now that I see him in ANBU, I don't think so. I wonder how he does it." She sipped from her cup, savoring the experience. "I wonder how _you_ do it."

Sakura raised her sake cup. "Drink up, Hanabi."

At the end of the night, Neji was not pleased to see Sakura escort a mildly inebriated Hanabi to the Hyuuga compound. Hanabi was no trouble, however, being a calm, rational drunk.

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Sakura felt neither pleased nor rational when she learned that she was to be taken off regular missions. The Godaime was adamant on this point. Having made sure her former pupil had gotten the message, Tsunade gave Sakura a minute to digest it.

"When I report fit for duty, I expect to be treated the same as any of the ANBU force." Clearly Sakura had found it unpalatable in light of her recent acquittal.

"I would also like to inform you of your new, and hopefully short-lived duty," said Tsunade. Sakura fell silent accordingly. "Anko and Ibiki's team have found the…amnesia that Itachi suffers from a near-insurmountable obstacle. As of tomorrow, your primary task will be to assist them."

A muscle in the kunoichi's face twitched. Tsunade was relieved that Sakura had yet to achieve the perfectly placid exterior that was a defining characteristic of ANBU veterans; the next moment, she was wincing at the foreign taint of cynicism in her voice. "While I understand that ours is but to do and not to question," said Sakura, "might I hear the reasons behind this assignation?"

"I know you studied psychology and therapy for a time." _And also for whom you did this_. "You are a qualified medic-nin and a member of ANBU. Aside from healing, your talent lies in genjutsu, so that you are familiar with both its usage and the techniques used to counter it. Now, the Uchiha has served in the ANBU before. He is familiar with and is therefore guarded against, to some extent, Ibiki's usual measures. I do not want the interrogation to escalate to the infliction of physical damage. I would like you to help Itachi around his memory problem in a gentler…more indirect way."

Sakura nodded, apparently satisfied.

"One more thing. Itachi's Sharingan ability is fearsome, and on the eventual recovery of his memory – which I am sorry to admit we need to fully eradicate the Akatsuki – he may regain his mastery of the Mangekyou Sharingan. For this reason, you are to be moved to secure quarters, where you will live for the duration of your assignment."

Sakura frowned, but Tsunade had not finished.

"Someone else has been taken off the roster for missions to supervise you for signs of either genjutsu or ninjutsu influence, and to give a separate, objective report on your condition after each session. You are to answer all questions directed towards you that pertain to your task. You are also to make sure this person is aware of your mental state. Any unusual fatigue, stress, or condition must be reported, but your regular emotional state is also to be kept in mind. We are not taking any chances – a few years back, one of the Akatsuki exploited his control over a jounin of Sunagakure to kidnap the Kazekage. Understood?"

"By the way, Tsunade-shishou…Neji-san and I subdued Itachi earlier through my deceit. So this may not go as you planned."

Tsunade noticed that Sakura brought this up only after hearing the condition she found objectionable. "Out of all of Konoha's ANBU, you have proven yourself capable of interacting civilly with the Uchiha. Your assignation is my order, but I also hope that you will set your heart on succeeding."

When Sakura closed her eyes and bowed, Tsunade knew she had her sworn word.

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She wasn't in the lightest of moods. Leaving her home of twenty years was equivalent to tearing out another limb of the old Sakura. The house had become more vacant as the years passed, and now the small rooms were filled to bursting with nothing other than accusing silence. She knew that the next time she was free to return, the immaculate counters and the spotless floor that now gleamed under late-morning rays would be dusty and cold.

Her new, temporary living quarters were surprisingly large. Of course, there were many things to be desired – the sleeping area held futons instead of beds, for one – but she had been expecting a cramped place. The kitchen, lounge area, and bathroom were a decent size. Sakura was carrying in a large box of everything she thought she'd need when Hyuuga Neji saw her and lent a hand with the awkward task.

The Hyuuga's consideration surprised her, particularly since an ANBU captain, she knew, had much more pressing duties. Neji paused just inside the door, taking in what he could see of the apartment from there. "How is it?"

"Not too bad. It's bigger than I expected, clean, and has most of the bare necessities." Then, realizing that he had asked out of politeness, Sakura amended, "It's fine."

"Good." He left, and Sakura closed the door, walked over to the dilapidated sofa in the living room, and slumped into it. Fifteen minutes later she heard someone knocking and got up.

She opened the door as Neji was turning the knob from the outside. As it was, Sakura could count the number of jokes she'd made in the past year on one hand, but Neji was one of those serious, good-looking people that she couldn't resist trying to provoke.

"Neji-san, I know you can't get enough of me, but a visit every fifteen minutes?"

He raised his brows – one of his understated indicators of exasperation – and jerked his head to draw her attention to the modest pack of ANBU behind him.

"Oh," Sakura said in a smaller voice.

The team set up various seals, all emergency-type things. Sakura had trouble identifying half of them; fuinjutsu was not her forte. When their task was done, the ANBU departed, and – glad that she was no longer in their way – Sakura resumed her position on the squishy sofa, contemplating how the empty apartment already felt larger.

An hour or so later, another visitor came. This time, the door opened on its own and admitted someone whom Sakura had come to regard with superficial familiarity.

"This is your mission brief," said Neji. "Read it, then destroy it." Since he was acting in his official capacity, Sakura stood up to take it from him.

"Yes, sir."

While she read, minor sounds of movement could be heard by the open door. A glance in that direction saw Neji picking up a heavy bag and reentering the apartment. Sakura scanned further down the document. After a moment, she got up and made her way to the doorway of the second bedroom.

"You're not mentioned by name, Neji-san."

He was seated on the partially unrolled futon. Now he raised his head, an expression of irony on his face. "It would have been an insult to your powers of deduction."

Well, of course. She'd made the observation herself on more than one occasion: Neji was one of the highest security failsafes available to the Hokage.

_We're not taking chances._

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The point was, however, that Neji didn't know her very well. Despite all the respect Sakura had for the Hyuuga, she did not look forward to conveying her emotional state to the man for him to report on her mental stability. She _could _see why Tsunade-shishou had not chosen someone close to her like Ino or Naruto. To put it in blunt and brutal terms, Ino might lack the raw power to subdue a potentially "controlled" Sakura; Naruto, the will. Neji was unlikely to hesitate. While this was reassuring for the village, it was not individually comforting. Sakura even caught a stray feeling of iciness towards her former teacher.

She got a taste of what it would be like to live with someone who missed nothing when, two minutes after she destroyed the mission outline, Neji said, "You didn't have the Uchiha remove the ring."

She pushed back her long bangs with the incriminating hand. "It was difficult to bring up, back in the village outskirts. It was either this, which hasn't done much, or seal up Itachi. He would have asked more questions and found our behavior even more suspect."

"Perhaps I would have neutralized him anyway."

Authoritative words aside, Neji had used a tone that suggested he was speculating and therefore open to Sakura's view. It allayed her previous fears of having to constantly defer to him as the ranking officer. "It wasn't a risk I thought worth taking at the moment, but I could have been wrong."

The long strands of his hair slid over his shoulders as he shook his head. "There's no point in second-guessing. I shouldn't have argued. What will you do with the ring?"

"Kisame put it on me, but I think he linked it to something Itachi has on him, to stop me from abandoning what I was doing."

"I can't see any chakra around it or extending from it."

"So it must be controlled primarily by Itachi's chakra," said Sakura, looking at the thin band. "It might be only a normal ring now."

"Are you willing to take the risk and remove it on your own?"

Sakura hesitated. It was on the ring finger of her right hand, the one she favored (however much she knew she should not) in battle. If something happened to that hand…She made a fist and opened it again.

"No."

"Then we'll have to see to it tomorrow."

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Naruto, too, went on many missions, some of them – _most_ of them freakishly hard from what Sakura had heard. While his official rank was chuunin, he was a solid A-class jounin for most intents and purposes. After Sasuke's first departure, he'd focused on self-improvement and the Godaime had given him a rare field promotion, because having him ranked as a genin had become highly ridiculous. On reflection, the entire ranking system and exams, to Sakura, had never been prepared to define the abilities and strengths of her friend. When it came to Naruto, it seemed as though either the rules themselves lay down and surrendered or suffered a severe beating.

After joining ANBU, Sakura's own schedule had become rather tight, and having lunch with Naruto was sometimes a nightmare to coordinate. Their "free days" didn't coincide very often, and – what was worse – Naruto's missions had of late been sending him further and further abroad. They taught him of other countries' terrain and diplomacy – as Sakura suspected was the underlying intention – but made any extended interaction between Sakura and Naruto as rare as Inuzuka Kiba liked his steaks.

One some level, Sakura knew he'd also been hurt when she closed him off following Sasuke's departures. Naruto continued to strive to maintain his friendships, and on certain days, Sakura felt obligated to reach back for all that once was.

They were at Ichiraku's, eating ramen. Naruto had returned from the southern region of River Country, with the tan to prove it. "Hey, hey, I can't believe you're moving in with _Neji_," he said between inhaling ramen. "What's up with that?"

Most chuunin-level-and-up ninja knew of Itachi's return; civilians, non-military officials, and genin were ignorant. Only ANBU and the Hokage knew what was being done _to_ Itachi, although there would always be educated guessers. Sakura wasn't sure she agreed with these measures – meant to stifle shock and gossip as they were – and hoped they would be temporary. "It's ANBU business, Naruto-kun."

Naruto opened his mouth to object and closed it. That was the recently-gained common sense kicking in.

Or perhaps memory. Sakura would have liked to pretend he'd done it because arguing with her was like going up against a mountain, but she, too, remembered another occasion on which Naruto had pressed her for ANBU business. "If you wanted to know," she'd retorted, "why didn't you join when I did? Why don't you?"

For a single beat, Naruto hesitated. "It's not right, Sakura-chan. ANBU get the assassination missions more than any other force. It's not like you or me. I won't."

"For Kami-sama's sake! Plenty of our friends are part of it. They're fine, Naruto-kun. It doesn't have to distort people."

Naruto shook his head. "Aw, Sakura-chan – you'll see."

His quieter answer had irritated her to no end. "What do _you _know about it? Stop talking like a veteran."

"I talked to Kakashi-sensei, Anko-san…Ibiki-san…bunch of ANBU and ex-ANBU. It's not good, Sakura-chan."

So Naruto was cut off from that venue of camaraderie, a whole part of Sakura's life that the Hyuuga, at least, knew.

"Fuzzy Eyebrows said that you dropped by the old training grounds for a spar."

"I had a free day yesterday."

"Yeah, I can't believe I wasn't there!" Naruto narrowed his eyes, squinting at her in his old, comical manner. "What about today, Sakura-chan? You have time for ramen with me."

He had a point. Nevertheless, "Neji-san wants me to prepare myself for my new assignment. I think…" She paused. "I think he's right. There are a lot of things I have to be ready for. You may be the last person outside of ANBU that I'll be allowed to see for a long time."

Naruto sat forward, looking alarmed. "Whoa, what are you doing?" When Sakura gave him a pointed look, he scowled in protest. "Come on, this is more than just ANBU business! Don't hurt yourself, okay, Sakura-chan?" For a second, his teeth caught the light, revealed in a less-than-wholehearted smile. "'Cause if someone's making you get hurt, they're going to be in a world of pain."

"Tch. As if I'd let them, silly." Naruto's smile softened into something brighter and more genuine.

"Hey, that was like the old Sakura-chan, huh?" Sakura's face responded to his ebullience with a reluctant grin. "So how long do you have?"

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She thought about going into the woods to meditate but realized that, what with the new genin teams, she was likely to be disturbed there. Returning to the apartment, which seemed in want of warmth and ornamentation, she found it vacant. Her room lacked all the comfort and detail that showed a person lived in it. It smelled vaguely of clean laundry, which must be from the futon and blankets. She had opened a window, so at least the air was fresher.

She began to arrange her things: an alarm clock (these days it wasn't necessary, but the whole place looked so bare), a few scrolls in the top shelf of the small closet, equipment placed in a bundle within reach from the futon, her bathroom things to be taken into the one she'd be sharing with Neji. Then she chose a patch of floor near the window and sat.

Her mother had had a strange aversion to tatami mats, so the entire floor at home had been polished wood. Sakura ran her fingers along the black fabric border of a mat, then forced herself to stop. _Focus._

Before she spoke with Uchiha Itachi, there were things that she had to get out of her system. She was to serve in - almost – a counseling capacity, meaning that she could not walk in there with her own issues.

Could not tell him not to worry, the Uchiha were known for their faithlessness anyway.

Did he even know what his brother had done? Did he _need _to know? – Itachi had only left Konoha once; in a sense, that was one less betrayal. She wondered what would be done to Sasuke if he ever returned.

She knew what people said_: Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me – but fool me three times?_ No one said that. What kind of ass stood to be fooled three times?

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TBC


	4. Sans Savoir

**Notes: **I said there would be no more speedy updates, but I don't think I've written this fast in a _long_ time. I confess; when I began this story (which was a while back, because then I put it down for an interval of a year or so) I had a very basic plot in mind. Then a few things occurred to me out of the blue, and it suddenly got more complex. Good news, I already know the conclusion, but the trouble is arriving there.

This is the chapter where things get more complicated than I originally planned.

(By the way, if you squint, something Neji says about his father in this chapter can squit along as being canon-friendly.)

**Disclaimer: **Naruto belongs to me like Chouji hates chips.

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Itachi had worked with a Hyuuga on one occasion. The shinobi in question had died on that less-than-brilliantly organized mission; while it had been a needless casualty, Itachi _had _learned more than what he already knew of his superiors' incompetence – that there was something on the Hyuuga, a seal, that destroyed his eyes so that enemies would not steal his family's Bloodline Limit.

If they could seal ability, it followed logically that the Hyuuga could also seal a person to their will by putting the fuinjutsu-equivalent of a leash on their own family members. For half an hour after he returned from that mission, this bothered Itachi, because people who troubled him once generally did not receive the opportunity to trouble him again – with the exception of the clan. The other Uchiha were a constant, abrasive presence over his shoulder, and knew he viewed them that way. The question was, why hadn't they placed a similar seal on Itachi, if he unsettled them so much?

The answer seemed obvious at the end of his thoughts. By birth, he was the son of the clan leader, the heir to the position. The Uchiha could not brand the future Head of their clan. It was unthinkable. They feared potential strength more than they pretended to encourage it, but tradition stopped them from even taking measures that they considered necessary. This was why the clan had become weak. As long as they could look across the street and see the family crest on the Konoha Military Police Headquarters – as long as they took pride in deeds they had not done but long-deceased ancestors had accomplished – they were weak. As long as they approached power with the intent to harness it instead of nurture it, they were weak. The clan's capacity for improvement was nonexistent, its institutions stagnant.

Itachi knew the man named Uchiha Fugaku well. He knew now that since no member of his clan had come to his cell to berate him for whatever he had done, the clan had either reformed dramatically or perished.

In this way, Itachi concluded that he was the only living Uchiha in the village. A recent memory came to the fore when he saw the kunoichi called Sakura accompanying his usual interrogators.

There had been a massacre.

He tilted his head up to look at them but made no other motion. As usual, the onlookers mistook his passivity for serenity.

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"Incredible, Sakura-chan," said Anko with a mocking air. "The Uchiha's not usually this perky." In discussion, they often called him Itachi, but now that they were within earshot of the prisoner, they termed him "the Uchiha."

_Call someone by his family name and he becomes less of an individual,_ Sakura thought, _even if he is one of only two surviving members._

The lighting in the room was bright enough to banish deep shadows in the corners, but dim enough that turning it off would not make everyone temporarily blind. Itachi's eyes were fathomless, as dark as his hair. Since he could not access his chakra, the Sharingan remained dormant.

Sakura made a discreet signal. Anko pulled the door shut again and gave her an impatient look; the others followed suit.

"You all know that I am an emotionally open person." When dry silence greeted the statement, Sakura barreled ahead. "Even I wouldn't feel like spilling my thoughts to a virtual stranger while all of you look on or listen in – and I _know_ you. Now, you want Itachi to overcome both his memory block and his reticence, or at least have him become talkative enough to divulge what we want to know at the end of the day. I need to establish _some_ rapport. I can't do that when both of us are uncomfortably aware of your scrutiny."

"What do you propose that we do?"

Ibiki had listened with surprising patience. Sakura appealed to him. "We could set up a barrier around Itachi and me. You will be able to see in, but not hear. I will definitely report in detail after each session."

"Do you honestly believe the subject will become more willing to cooperate because of this false privacy?"

"I cannot begin to understand how his mind works," said Sakura, "but I know _I _would. And I know the _kekkai_ that is used for interrogation of multiple subjects in the same holding cell is simple to set up."

Anko leaned against the wall, one foot braced on the stone. "It's true that it's fairly standard. But I'm not sold on the idea, Sakura-chan."

"What has been tried before hasn't worked," said Ibiki. "We might as well."

He summoned two ANBU from the previously empty corridor. "Prepare a room with the barrier for multiples." He returned his gaze to the group. "We'll be escorting the Uchiha there."

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"Uchiha-san, please follow along."

He raised his head at the sound of her voice. Sakura made no move to approach him. Other ANBU stood waiting, ready to suppress him at any sign of trouble.

She released a breath she hadn't been aware of trapping when Itachi rose to his feet and walked out of the cell, flanked on all sides by two full squads of jounin. After a moment, Sakura, too, left the room.

Painted seals were strewn across the floor in an arrangement reminiscent of spiral arms. The seals at the ends veering inwards did not converge, but stopped at the boundary of a circular region about one and a half meters in diameter.

"Step in," instructed one of the ANBU. Sakura followed in after Itachi, and the ANBU at the other end of each "arm" of seals drew blood from their hands, touching the endmost seals. The characters pulsed once, giving off a faint blue glow. Sakura kept her eyes on Itachi but saw the painted signs spin at the edges of her vision. A pale barrier of chakra rose up around the circular area and curved overhead to form a strange, phosphorescent dome, blocking the rest of the room from view.

"Please be seated," Sakura said.

"After you, Sakura-san."

They sat very properly, with their legs under them. At once, Sakura was aware of the hardness of the floor. She resisted the urge to unfold her legs and sit with them crossed.

"How are you, Uchiha-san? Are you allotted enough food or time to rest?"

Itachi nodded – stiffly, she thought. In this light, the superficial similarities between him and his brother were heightened. He had the same nose, pale complexion, even longer lashes, if possible, but lacked the odd, barely-perceptible awkwardness that Sasuke had. As the first son, he did not have the elusive, blind urge to prove himself that younger male siblings tended to acquire.

"Feel free to ask me any questions on your mind." She had completed her visual assessment and felt the need to break the silence.

"Sakura-san, if it is permissible to ask, how did you become a member of the ANBU?"

As innocuous as Itachi's tone was, it aggravated Sakura until she realized that such was his purpose in choosing those words. She gave him a calm reply. "I passed the trials after months of training." An irrational suspicion that Itachi could see better in this light than _she _could assaulted Sakura's brittle equanimity. "Let's talk about you, Uchiha-san. I'm sorry if people have been treating you discourteously, but wouldn't it benefit you, too, if you regain your memory? Almost half of your life is in the parts you can't remember. I want to help you regain it."

"Your concern has proven less than beneficial in the past. Forgive me if I offend you."

"It's understandable. I tricked you because you are a strong ninja of unknown abilities. The decision minimized the chance of incurring casualties."

"I am aware of your motivation, Sakura-san. I merely wanted to alert you of my own, natural distrust." The Uchiha's gentle voice sounded a little flatter, revealed a – perhaps – calculated amount of anger.

"Do you remember the circumstances under which you left Konoha? It became almost common knowledge, after your departure, that you had a falling-out with your father, Uchiha Fugaku. Do you believe you can remember how you felt, what you might have been thinking?"

"Speculation aside, I am sure that you are fully knowledgeable of the events that both precipitated and followed my _departure,_ as you phrase it. Why won't you divulge them? Perhaps on hearing them, the memory will occur to me."

"I could," countered Sakura. "However, no one knows more about what happened in those days than Uchiha Itachi, and only he has the power to explain the cause to your satisfaction. If I force it on you, the news might distance you even further from your memories and prevent a complete recollection."

He was silent. Then, with disconcerting politeness, Itachi said, "Pleas accept my apology. I possess regrettably little patience."

And to think, this was him at _thirteen._

"Then it is a virtue you should cultivate." Having said that, Sakura wished she could bite her tongue and curb her quick temper. It was time for a truce. "Uchiha-san, if you have any other requests or questions, please state them. I will answer what is permissible to the best of my ability."

He appeared to study her; an appraising quality fell over his fine features. "How much are you willing to tell me of yourself, Sakura-san?"

_That, _she had not expected.

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"He tried to obtain more clues through the ploy of asking me personal questions. I did not want to lie to him, so I told him the barest facts, such as when I passed the chuunin exams, jounin exams, and medical exams."

Anko had been observing Sakura with an expression of piqued concern. Her eyes rested on Sakura like a tangible force. "You look kind of worn, eh? Did the Uchiha really get to you?"

"You know I hate duplicity…I'm bad at it." Sakura rubbed the tear ducts of her eyes, which were irritated and dry. "I think he's already aware, at some level, that his clan is no more. I nearly used the wrong tense early on in the conversation."

"Sakura…you are under a lot of pressure. If you need any information, just _ask._" Anko flashed her a wry, oddly wolfish smile. "I can afford to meet your demands, unlike you and that wretched Uchiha."

The other kunoichi toyed with a small ring on her right hand, then raised her head. "I would like to know everything about the Uchiha massacre and the days immediately before and after it – everything that is on file."

"Good. I'll send a missive to the police headquarters. In the meantime, the records in the ANBU are pretty well-kept."

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Walking outside was a disorienting experience. It had felt like night in the underground prison cells. To see that it was only around one in the afternoon disturbed Sakura. She hadn't even noticed the oppressive atmosphere until she was free of it. The bright blue sky and the sounds of people down the street had never seemed more surreal.

Neji had not come out of the compound with her, so she walked a short distance from the entrance and loitered under the pretext of waiting for him. A tall, vaguely familiar jounin raised his hand in greeting in the distance. Sakura returned the wave, finding it unbelievable that her hand did not tremble – not that anyone would guess from the neutral expression on her face. In life, it didn't matter how you really felt; it was what you did. And she was not about to let on that a forty-five minute chat with a criminal came anywhere near disturbing her composure.

Unfortunately, the familiar jounin with his dark green vest and dog-eared book was Kakashi. He took one look at her from his lazy-lidded eye, and lowered the book.

"Sakura-chan, hello."

"Kakashi-san. Great weather today, isn't it?"

Kakashi's eye winked as he (presumably) smiled. "I wouldn't know." He waved his little book. "This is a gripping tale of astounding brilliance and epic proportions. Reading it has already caused me to lose my way on the road of life more than once."

"I'm well aware of that."

"Well, Sakura-chan," said her former sensei, "I only thought you could use a smile. It looks better on you than what you were doing with your face before, eh?"

The spontaneous smirk that had overpowered her face faltered. "Did I look that bad, honestly?"

"No." Before that could cheer her, Kakashi added, "Actually, for an ANBU that was positively sunny."

Thanks to him, she could _feel_ her mouth turn down at the corners. "Kakashi-san…"

The teasing glint left Kakashi's eye. "Sakura-chan…take care of yourself."

She blinked. "Yes, sir."

It sometimes amazed her how much her old teacher could convey with over two-thirds of his face hidden from view. "You were always smarter than those two idiots." Kakashi gave her another smile from behind the mask before going on his way; she didn't know how he did it, but somehow his usual, jaunty smile had seemed a little sad, too.

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"Good afternoon, sir."

The old man's eyes crinkled, which Sakura knew from experience was his equivalent of a smile, a bear-hug, and tearful arm-patting all in one. His face was brown and wrinkly at the corners of his mouth and eyes and the bridge of his nose. His eyes held a keen intelligence that often made Sakura think of a hawk. On her initiation into ANBU, he had been the one to put her name in the records. As for _his _name, she'd never found out.

"Hm. Sakura-san, here are the relevant files. I'm afraid you can't take these out of the building, but you can go into the adjacent room to look them over."

She accepted the sheaf of papers and bowed. "Thank you, sir."

The adjacent room, like many of those along this particular corridor, contained a rather sparse collection of furniture: two chairs, one at the large desk, the other perhaps meant for an assistant or secretary, which could be moved to the other side of the desk. Tall steel cabinets covered a wall and a half, nearly hitting the ceiling. A beaded cord dangled from the old fan directly overhead.

Sakura started towards the light switch, then changed direction to open the window. A tiny breeze filtered into the room, making her feel better at once. She spread open the topmost file and sat at the desk to read.

The first lines of the report resonated with her, the way that familiar things could. They were part of the official statement that the Hokage had released on the day after the tragedy. The words were sympathetic, respectful, and concise in their summary of the massacre. _Uchiha Itachi, heir to the clan, committed a heinous mass-murder…_there was a touch of anger, but all of it – despite the

(she reasoned)

earnest regret – sounded like something one would say to a grieving stranger by rote. The tone of the speech _claimed _familiarity, but the Sandaime had danced around making the rawest emotional statements. Of course. All this had technically been meant for the ears of a single eight- or nine-year-old, who hadn't even been conscious to hear at the time. No longer eight or nine herself, Sakura could detect much more beneath the surface of the written word.

She shuffled through the report, skimming through passages with a cursory eye until a phrase caught her attention. _We were unable to prevent._

Someone knocked on the door. "Come in." She looked up. "Oh, it's you, Neji-san."

The Hyuuga drew closer on soundless feet. Service in the ANBU really left its mark; ex-ANBU, for instance, retained the economical fluidity of movement that they gained through the experience. People with a natural presence who joined the ANBU became more subtle when they entered a room. Neji was one such person. "Sakura…" He sighed.

Going through all the possible, immediately-evident causes for his reaction, she arrived at the answer. "The ring. Yes, well…I _will _see to it. Later, Neji-san – is that alright? I'm in the middle of something that I can't take home to finish."

He read the heading upside-down, leaning his palms on the edge of the table. " '_On the tragedy that has befallen our village. The Uchiha.' _You plan to attempt a personality analysis based on Itachi's past actions."

"There's something I don't get, Neji-san. Here." She showed him the sentence, the brief, unspectacular phrase that had set off an explosion of questions in her head. " 'We were unable to prevent.' What the _hell_ is that supposed to mean?"

Neji raised his head. "Sakura…are you feeling well?"

"Yes," she snapped quickly. "Sir."

He made a gesture with his hand telling her to dispense with that form of address. "It's just that I didn't have the chance to ask you after today's session."

"Ah. I'm fine, Neji-san. But back to what I was saying…What did the Sandaime suppose to mean? _Unable?_ I'm sure he could have done _something._"

"Maybe it was just an unfortunate word choice. This is no longer part of the speech…it was written by an ANBU." But Neji's brows were furrowed. Sakura was glad for this indicator of her sanity; so she was _not _the only one with a bone to pick. "He – or she –"

Sakura checked the other pages. "He."

"He should have used a more accurate way to put it. _Failed to prevent…_"

"And we both know how lovely _that _word looks in writing." They exchanged a wry grimace.

"Point. Even so, 'unable' seems to imply helplessness – that they were powerless to do anything."

"Which would be ridiculous. You and I are ANBU. We could have – well, you and several others, at least, could have delayed Itachi. Add to that the fact that there's no way the commotion would have gone unnoticed for as long as it took Itachi to kill everyone barring Sasuke."

"He should not be underestimated, even at thirteen. With his speed, efficiency, and silence, the element of surprise could well have been all he needed."

Noticing that she'd been curling the corners of the report, Sakura stilled the idle finger. "From what I've gathered, though, Itachi's relationship with his father and the clan was not doing well before that night."

Neji came around the desk to sift through the papers. "I didn't know. That does put it in a different light." Sakura found herself watching his bandaged fingers tap on the wooden tabletop. His nails, like those of all ninja who cared about competency and hygiene, were trimmed to the pinkish area. "Then the Uchiha shinobi might have suspected hostility. At least one of them should have been able to alert the Hokage, or even the ones who were not at the compound."

"No," said Sakura as a sudden thought occurred. "They were all in the Uchiha compound when Itachi took action – all except Sasuke, the youngest. Perhaps training late into the night to improve…I can see that. But anything otherwise would have taken Itachi too long."

"Except that the Uchiha were active in the village. With their prominent role as the military police and Konoha shinobi, what are the chances that all the Uchiha were home that night? There might not have been many commissions from outside the country because of the war, but even then…"

When Neji fell silent, Sakura picked up from where he had left off in her head. _The adult Uchiha were unlikely to have all been home at that time, which is an early hour of the night by professional standards. Itachi is capable of killing very swiftly, with as few flashy techniques as possible. That's still a lot of opportunity for screaming people to, well, scream. _"I still think that if he had to go around the village to pick off individuals, it would have taken too much time; long enough for suspicion, for people to _notice_ and act to delay his departure. Even with all of them already at home, it would have been hard to stop ANBU from noticing that multiple people were dying. Like you said, Neji-san – it was wartime, or near the end of it. ANBU would have been on high alert."

"Assuming that the Uchiha Clan's leaders agreed for all clan members to be at the compound at that hour and for all untrained women and children to remain indoors, I can think of only one clear reason for it. To me, it sounds like an In-Clan Arrest."

Sakura glanced up, but Neji was not looking at her. "…In-Clan Arrest?"

Now he met her inquiring stare. "Exactly what it sounds. Hyuuga had a few, although not within my lifetime. It's when the clan representatives ask the Hokage not to interfere because they want to keep all details of the matter strictly within the clan. If you said that Itachi's relations with his own clan were poor, it's possible that the other clan members might have wanted to restrain him for confidential questioning."

"That sounds as though he did something very serious even before the massacre." Sakura gave up fiddling with the papers, dropping her hands into her lap. "Even though his relations were strained, I don't think anyone came _close _to anticipating something so excessive or brutal as the massacre."

"Treason would have been an issue that a powerful, large clan preferred to deal with discreetly. Another is murder."

"_Murder?_"

Neji raised his eyebrows. Sakura coughed and resumed with less passion. "Okay…that might have been a possibility. There has to be more on that somewhere. Anyway, are you sure that the Sandaime would have condone such a thing? In-Clan Arrests sound a bit…"

"Barbaric?" Neji's sardonic smile said it all.

"…Yeah, Neji-san." She let the silence spin on, sensing that the discussion had veered near dangerous waters. The Hyuuga straightened and went to the window. She stared at his back. The wait felt long and deeply uncomfortable.

"I used to believe that was what had happened to my father," he said quietly. "I knew he would never murder or betray anyone… so the mere thought of his being treated that way made me so angry at all of them."

"I'm sorry, Neji-san." Sakura closed her eyes, hating herself for uttering the impersonal condolence. On opening them, she found him watching her with a small smile.

"It's alright. I was wrong." He leaned his back against the wall by the window. "I've just realized something. Look through those files and see if anything from the Uchiha Clan's family records is there."

Sakura rummaged through the stack. Twice. "No, nothing."

"They must have hidden them somewhere that no one outside of the clan knows." And they must have realized that Sasuke was too young to have already been told.

Sakura sat back and attempted a lighter tone. "So tell me, Neji-san – would it be a waste of time if I tried to look for them?"

He gave her a once-over, deliberately letting his eyes linger on the documents piled high on the desk.

"Yes…if _you_ tried," he added. Sakura felt an answering grin spread on her face. "For _me_…no."

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Sakura only had to look at the two pairs of stonily skeptical eyes to know that she didn't have a case. Of course, that kind of detail had rarely – if ever – stopped her before.

"I would like to speak with Uchiha Itachi again."

Anko, when she raised a single brow like that, looked a heck of a lot less approachable than Neji with his expression of vexation. "Tell me you don't have a f – ing crush on this one, too."

The blunt insensitivity of the comment hit Sakura like a punch to the gut. Regret, like quicksilver, flickered through the other woman's eyes, but Anko had never been one to take words back. She was known for brutality like this.

"No," said Sakura in a relatively even tone, all things considered. "I _don't _have a f – ing crush on him. I've gone through the old ANBU records and I have some questions for him."

"Itachi-chan has a nightly interview with me'n Ibiki. You could come, but I don't think you'd like it – eh, Tadaro-san? You think Sakura-chan would enjoy it?"

Sakura wagered that the man beside Anko was grateful for his mask at that moment. "You've made yourself clear, Anko-san. I'll come back tomorrow."

As she put her hand on the door to push it open, Anko called to her, almost like a peace offering, "You can ask me some of those questions, Sakura. I might know the answers."

"Thanks, Anko-san," Sakura replied without turning. "It's okay. Maybe later!"

Even as she said it, she realized something unexpected. Sakura was never going to ask the ANBU about what she had discovered that afternoon.

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Many children who grow up in specific environments adopt a characteristic of their home as a source of comfort. For Sakura, the sound of rustling leaves served to quiet her nerves. If she looked out the window, she knew she would see the clouds drifting, cirrus and cumulus; some fluffy and airy, some like cotton stretched too thin. Dappled sunlight slanted into the room. It was late evening.

She heard a click as the bathroom door unlocked. Neji went into his room. Sakura left hers and paused at the doorway of the bathroom. The soap that her roommate used was like those almond-scented washes that smelled faintly nice in the bottle, and were virtually unidentifiable once they were used. The subtle fragrance dissipated quickly – unlike her, Neji did not fog up the bathroom with hot showers – and Sakura wondered if acknowledged geniuses ever sought comfort in the small, everyday things as well. Neji reemerged.

"Sakura, were you waiting for me?"

His damp hair looked tidy and heavy. She smiled at him. "Yes…dinner? I was thinking of eating out. Tomorrow, if you have time, can we spar? I'd ask Lee-san, but –" He nodded, making further elaboration unnecessary. "Great."

"Let's go."

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"I was thinking about what you said, concerning 'commotion.'" They were waiting for their orders. Neji had given her the choice, and without thinking she'd gone straight to the ramen stand. Her comfort food. It reminded her of Naruto, who was once again on a mission. Sitting there in the familiar fumes of Ichiraku's cooking almost fooled her senses into believing in his presence.

"Yes, Neji-san?"

"While it used to be an unofficial right of the old families to claim In-Clan Arrest and non-interference, it would have been beyond idiocy for the Uchiha not to shout for help, even if they couldn't make it out of the compound." He paused, apparently for Sakura to draw some inevitable conclusion. When she said nothing, he reluctantly spelled it out. "They must have asked for _assistance_ from the Hokage to _prevent_ interference. Set up a zone and sent ANBU to guard the perimeter so that no non-Uchiha crossed into it."

_Ah._ But Itachi _was _ANBU, and frighteningly intelligent. He would have caught wind of this. He might even have taken advantage of his position by using it to slip past the guard.

Sakura suddenly lost her appetite for food. "But that's _sick._ That would mean the ANBU _ensured_ that the massacre was unpreventable."

If she had thought Neji's demeanor grim, she'd never seen him like this. "I had a look at the ANBU records myself, after you left. This may not be very significant given the situation at the time…but many ANBU assigned to unspecified posts near the Uchiha compound that night showed a strong suicidal streak in subsequent missions."

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TBC


End file.
